For a moment the name meant nothing to Laurie; then he remembered; but his rising suspicions were quelled instantly by his friend's next remark.
"By the way, Cathcart, we were talking of you a week or two ago."
"Indeed! I am flattered," said the old man perkily. Yes, "perky" was the word, thought Laurie.
"Mr. Baxter here is interested in Spiritualism--rump steak, waiter, and pint of bitter--and I told him you were the man for him."
Laurie interiorly drew in his horns.
"A--er--an experimenter?" asked the old man, with courteous interest, his eyes giving a quick gleam beneath his glasses.
"A little."
"Yes. Most dangerous--most dangerous.... And any success, Mr. Baxter?"
Laurie felt his annoyance deepen.
"Very considerable success," he said shortly.
"Ah, yes--you must forgive me, sir; but I have had a good deal of experience, and I must say--You are a Catholic, I see," he said, interrupting himself. "Or a High Churchman."
"I am a Catholic," said Laurie.
"So'm I. But I gave up spiritualism as soon as I became one. Very interesting experiences, too; but--well, I value my soul too much, Mr. Baxter."
Mr. Morton put a large piece of potato into his mouth with a detached air.
It was really rather trying, thought Laurie, to be catechized in this way; so he determined to show superiority.
"And you think it all superstition and nonsense?" he asked.
"Indeed, no," said the old man shortly.
Laurie pushed his plate on one side, and drew the cheese towards him. This was a little more interesting, he thought, but he was still far from feeling communicative.
"What then?" he asked.
"Oh, very real indeed," said the old man. "That is just the danger."
"The danger?"
"Yes, Mr. Baxter. Of course there's plenty of fraud and trickery; we all know that. But it's the part that's not fraud that's--May I ask what medium you go to?"
"I know Mr. Vincent. And I've been to some public séances, too."
The old man looked at him with sudden interest, but said nothing.
"You think he's not honest?" said Laurie, with cool offensiveness.
"Oh, yes; he's perfectly honest," said the other deliberately. "I'll trouble you for the sugar, Mr. Morton."
Laurie was determined not to begin the subject again. He felt that he was being patronized and lectured, and did not like it. And once again the suspicion crossed his mind that this was an arranged meeting. It was so very neat--two days before the séance--the entry of Morton--his own seat occupied. Yet he did not feel quite courageous enough to challenge either of them. He ate his cheese deliberately and waited, listening to the talk between the two on quite irrelevant subjects, and presently determined on a bit of bravado.